Hot Coco
by Kitsuna Ri
Summary: Jean works in a coffee shop, Marco comes in and orders a lot of hot chocolate. Lots of fluff and dumb dorks being dumb. JeanMarco


**A/N: I've been trying to write a JeanMarco fic forever and then this kinda popped out. I think I'm ok with it, haha. It's also up on my tumblr; .com Enjoy?  
**

**Legal stuff: Not mine**

Hot Coco

The winter was at its coldest when he walked in the first time. It was mid afternoon, the slowest time at Titan House Coffee and the beginning of Jean Kirschtein's daily shift at the small establishment. He walked through the door, snow flurries in his dark, chestnut hair, a pink flush on his freckled cheeks and a small smile on his face.

"Hello," came the perky greeting from Sasha, Jean's co-worker, friend, and the shop's main cashier (only because it kept her out of the dessert display).

He nodded and approached the counter, standing back enough to read the large menu filled with high priced coffees and cappuccinos. Jean watched his eyes scan the options, mostly to be ready to make the order, not because he was captivated by the man's honey-almond eyes. Nope.

"I guess, I'll take a medium sized hot chocolate," the man said, his voice smooth and light.

Jean rolled his eyes. Hot chocolate at a coffee shop? Obviously he didn't know the wonders and savings of a mug of Swiss Miss.

"Anything else?" Sasha asked.

The man shook his head and reached for his wallet. The door chimed as more customers stumbled in from the blustering cold.

"And your name?"

"Marco."

"Alright, Jean here will have it right out for you in a moment! Thank you!"

Marco. So Jean knew his name, no big deal. Cute customers came in all the time. He moved around the machines, grabbing the ingredients for Marco's drink. Accidentally adding an extra bit of chocolate. _Accidentally. _He knew he was taking more time on this one drink than usual, and he could see the stack of cups piling up from the other customers that kept coming in. But still, this guy was paying way too much money for hot chocolate. The least Jean could do is make it worth at least half the price. Once finished, he carefully put the lid on it, not wanting to mess up the whip cream, and turned to the pickup counter.

"Marco?"

The freckled man walked over, smiling.

"Thank you, Jean," he said, taking the cup.

Shit. That smile. Those eyes. He remembered his name. And the way he even dared to pronounce his name? Ugh, Jean was definitely attracted to him.

"Y-Yeah," he managed, turning around quickly to get back to work and to not get lost in those eyes.

_Idiot. _ He thought to himself, fumbling with the next few orders, earning himself a bit of scalding espresso on his hand.

Marco came back two days later, almost enough time that Jean was forgetting about the impact he had had the first time. Almost. But in he walked, this time an olive green scarf wrapped around his neck and mouth, and a black beanie on his head and a pair of silver frames on his face. Jean didn't recognize him until he unwrapped his scarf and he saw those freckles spotted on his cheeks. His breath caught and he started coughing. Sasha looked over at him, eyebrow raised. He just waved her off, turning to look at Marco while he caught his breath. Marco set up at a table, pulling a laptop out from the bag at his side, before approaching the counter.

"My, uh, power is out at my place. Can I stay here for a little bit?" He asked, pink tinting his cheeks from embarrassment.

"Only if you purchase something!" Sasha said sweetly.

He nodded, "Of course, thank you! I'll take a medium hot chocolate."

Again? Jean shook his head but started making the drink. This time, he prepared it in a ceramic mug-the guy did say he'd be there for a while after all, and he added chocolate shavings to the whip cream. It was picture perfect. He turned around and nearly sloshed everything in surprise when he saw Marco was already waiting.

"That looks delicious, thanks Jean!"

He still remembered his name? The name of some minimum wage slave who made his drink? This made Jean smile back.

"Yeah, well, you're paying a ridiculous amount for this, you know?"

Marco laughed lightly and Jean wanted to hear that sound more. He opened his mouth to say more but was interrupted by Sasha, reminding him that there were still other customers. Right, he was working. Not picking up cute freckled men with a sweet tooth.

It soon became a routine. Marco appeared in the coffee shop at least two to three times a week for his regular order of hot chocolate. And Jean made sure he was the one to make it, even after they had hired someone new. Each time he made the cup special. Sometimes adding cinnamon, or white chocolate and when it was nearly Christmas, peppermint. That had been Marco's favorite.

"Ahh, this is so good Jean!"

"Well, Christmas is around the corner, so you know," he blushed lightly, "I figured it was in the spirit or whatever."

Marco beamed, sipping at the drink while he stood at the pickup counter. Jean watched him, also smiling, which he did a lot more lately. Each time Marco walked into the shop, when he gave his order, when he spoke to Jean. They conversed more and more each time he came in. It was usually pointless, idle chatter or Marco praising his ingredient choices, but it still meant something to Jean. Not that he'd admit it. Especially when Sasha would tease him after Marco would finally leave.

"You so like him Jean, it's not even a secret anymore!" She teased, laughing at the red color rising to his cheeks.

"Shut up! I just like making hot chocolate and he's the only one who orders it!"

"Uh-huh, right. Ignore the fact we had like ten other people, including children, order it today."

He made a gesture and she just kept laughing. The new kid, Armin, even chuckled and Jean shot him a glare effectively shutting him up.

"All of you can just bite me, ok? I'm going on break!"

He threw his apron on the counter and stormed into the break room. This was stupid. So he thought the guy was attractive, and he may have looked forward to making him his drink each time he came in. But it was purely because he wanted to make it fancy, or really delicious. It was clearly helping business. Even though he didn't do it for anyone else. Ok, so that was a large hole in his argument, but still. It was rare to get a genuinely pleasant customer like Marco. It was refreshing. And did he mention he was attractive? Ridiculously attractive. Especially when he came in with his glasses still on. And right when he'd walk in through the door, his face flushed from the cold. Jean groaned.

"Dammit, get it together, idiot," he muttered to himself.

How could he get this way from a customer? Someone he knew barely anything about beyond his good looks? What if he worked for the mafia or kicked puppies or something? Ok, so maybe that was extreme, but still. He was getting worked up over a stranger and he had to tone it down. He made a resolve that the next time Marco came in, he wouldn't even make his order. Nope, that'll show him for coming in and making Jean attracted to him.

The plan didn't go too well. Marco showed up two days later, as usual, and put in his order. But right before Sasha said Jean would have it right out, Jean announced he was going on break and Armin would take over. His co-workers stared at him, Sasha giving him a look. He ignored them if only because the expression on Marco's face stopped him in his tracks completely. The other man looked so crestfallen, so disappointed. Jean had just kicked a puppy and he had to fix that sad face, right now.

"Haha, stupid me. My uh, breaks in an hour, not now! Daylight savings time, amiright?" Jean said quickly, tying his apron back on and immediately working on fixing the drink.

"Uh, Jean, Daylight savings time was-"

"Shhh, no, don't Armin. Let him flounder."

Jean would have loved to throw something at the two, but he was very focused on making the absolutely perfect cup because how dare he make Marco look so sad. And oh, it was perfect. A perfect balance of chocolate and peppermint, topped with fluffy whip cream, shaved white and milk chocolate then accented with two cookie sticks. It could have been in one of those food magazines it was so damn pretty. Jean beamed with pride when he presented it to Marco, who was quite surprised.

"W-Wow, Jean. This is..."

"Over the top," muttered Sasha.

"So not on the menu," whispered Armin.

"W-Well you know it's nothing big," Jean said, trying to speak over comments from his co-workers.

And there was that smile again. Jean sighed and everything was ok. More than ok.

"Hey Jean?" Marco asked suddenly, cup balanced in his hand.

"Yeah?"

"Um," Marco's eyes were looking everywhere but at Jean, "What time does your shift end?"

There was a stunned silence in the coffee house as the three employees let the question hang in the air. Jean blinked a few times. Marco was asking him out wasn't he?

"I uh," Jean stuttered, trying to get out the words.

"His shift ends at five!" Armin saved his ass.

"Do you want to go and grab something to eat with me?"

"Yes!" Jean's answer was quick and he felt like an over eager fool, "I mean, yeah, that'd be great. Just so long as you don't ask me for coffee after, haha..." he wanted to slam his head against the wall to make himself shut up.

But Marco actually laughed, "Great."

And with that, he went to his seat.

Jean wasn't going to freak out. No, not at all. He had to play this cool. But it was hard with the looks Armin and Sasha kept giving him. When Marco finally left, he let out a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding.

"Oh my god," Sasha said.

"Holy crap," was all Jean could respond with.

"Well that was, sweet," Armin managed.

He had three hours. Three hours to not freak out about this date that was happening. Three hours to prepare not making a fool out of himself. He didn't know if he wanted the time to pass quickly or slowly. When the clock ticked closer to five, he felt his heart beat speed up with each chime of the bell.

"Jean, are you going to be ok? You keep jumping," Armin asked, concerned.

"He's fine. He just can't contain the excitement of Coco boy coming to pick him up." Sasha grinned and avoided the apron Jean threw at her.

"Shut. Up." he growled, "I'm going in the back to wash up. I'll be right back."

In truth, he just wanted a bit of breathing room. And ok, yes, to make sure he didn't look like a complete mess after his four hour shift. He brushed his hair back, wishing he had a comb or could get a quick hair cut. What if this wasn't even a date? What if Marco just wanted to be friends and hang out? Or just thank him for the really over-extravagant drink he'd made him earlier that day? And what would he do if Marco wasn't anything like he thought or imagined? What if he worked with the mafia or did terrible things like kill kittens? His head hurt from all the stress he began building up.

"Jean, your boyfriend is here to pick you up!" Sasha exclaimed, poking her head through the door.

Jean flushed and did one more mirror check. He could do this.

No he couldn't. Nope.

He walked out to see Marco looking impeccably dressed. He wore a light blue button up and black slacks paired with a stylish black jacket. Not a single hair was out of place. Jean felt his mouth fall open slightly. He was pretty sure Sasha whistled. Marco blushed.

"A-Are you ready?"

Jean nodded, "Uh, yeah but I may be way under dressed, dude," he walked out from behind the counter.

The only real requirements of their job was a black shirt and the apron. So as long as the apron covered the print, they could wear whatever they wanted. And since Jean never expected a hottie like Marco to ever ask him out, he usually just wore whatever black t-shirt was clean and some comfortable jeans.

"No! You're fine, you're perfectly fine, Jean," Marco smiled and then gestured to his outfit, "I had a meeting with a publisher...it went a little longer than planned so I didn't have time to change."

"Well, I certainly don't mind," Jean grinned and headed towards the door.

"Take care of our little Jean! Don't stay out too late!" Sasha called out, waving at the two, "Our little boy is growing up!"

Armin chuckled while Jean just rolled his eyes, hurriedly ushering Marco out of the place.

"Crazy woman," he muttered when they were out of her earshot.

"I think it's sweet," Marco said, laughing lightly.

"Don't ever tell her that, then she'll never stop," he shoved his hands in his pockets, "So uh, where to?"

"Oh! Uh, you know," Marco scratched the back of his head, "I honestly didn't plan this far ahead...between the meeting and I kinda just blurted the question out..."

Jean smirked, "So asking me was a mistake?"

Now poor Marco was flustered, waving his hands, "No! No! I had been wanting to but I thought I'd do it a bit er, smoother, I guess?"

Jean laughed, "Ah well you certainly did better than I did."

They continued to walk down the way, lulling into comfortable small talk, but the wind began to pick up and they took refuge in a small Italian place.

"I suppose this will work, right?"

"Sure," Jean nodded.

The lighting was low and it wasn't very crowded, only a few other booths were filled, with music playing softly in the background.

"I feel like we should be in Lady and the Tramp or something," Jean remarked.

"So is that a yes or no on sharing spaghetti, then?" Marco grinned.

Jean laughed though the thought of kissing Marco did sound really nice. Definitely something he wanted to make happen tonight. Assuming Marco didn't admit to being involved with the Mafia or killing puppies or kittens or whatever other terrible things he imagined.

"So you said you were meeting with a publisher earlier? Are you a writer?"

Marco nodded "Yeah, though I haven't really had anything big published. Mostly stuff in small magazines, a few featured pieces here and there."

"Well they must be good enough you had a publisher meeting, right?"

The brunette shrugged, "I suppose, I don't know if it will go through or not."

"Well, I'd like to read your stuff sometime."

Embarrassed, Marco mumbled a thank you as he sipped at his drink. Jean stared at him, watching the way he glanced around the restaurant. It was so bizarre that they were here now, together on a date, not in the coffee shop with Sasha's comments.

"So, I have a confession," Marco said hesitantly.

This was it. This is where he admitted to actually being a terrible person or he was suddenly not interested or something that would make everything suck balls. Jean took a breath, his heart pounding in his chest. He could handle it, totally.

"I am really terrible at all this, I honestly have no idea what to do now," the freckled man said, sighing heavily.

That was it? He started laughing and reached across the table, taking Marco's hand into his own. He even had freckles spotted along his knuckles and a few on his fingers. He brushed his thumb along the top of his hand.

"Don't worry so much. I like you, I think you're cute and this has been fun so far. And there's no pressure for anything to happen."

Marco's face lit up, "Thank you, Jean."

And that was all he needed to say before they were able to talk comfortably again. Sharing stories, dreams, hobbies, anything they could to learn about one another.

"So then, Levi turns around for a second-like maybe even a millisecond, and Sasha devours the sample cake pops in the blink of an eye! He was pissed!"

Every time Jean made Marco laugh, it felt like some personal victory for that night. There were no more nerves or tension and at one point, Jean was certain they would be kicked out of the place for being so disruptive. But they were actually booted out because of closing time. So they trudged back out into the cold where the temperature had dropped at least twenty degrees and snow flurries fell from the sky. Marco moved close to him, shivering in the freezing air.

"Guess it's time to say goodbye, hm? Unless you want to stay out and catch pneumonia, that is."

"Hmm that's not really on my to do list, but at the same time I'm not ready for this to end just yet." Marco smiled sheepishly up at him.

"Well I guess you'll have to move your Thursday hot cocoa visit to tomorrow then. I think I know what I'll fix up for you this time."

"Uh, Jean? I have another confession to make, before he night ends."

Jean's stomach dropped. What was it now? Had he waited all this time to drop some sort of metaphorical bomb on him? After all the fun they'd had?

"I don't actually like hot chocolate THAT much. In fact, I am kinda over it for the next twenty years."

He stared at Marco as though he had grown a second freckled head. How could he say that? That was what he ordered all the time!

"But...what? Are you fucking with me? Why would you order it every single time you came in?"

"Well, initially when I first came in, it was something I wanted because I don't really like coffee and there weren't any teas I liked. Then I saw you and it made me want to come in again, and I still didn't like any of the options," he paused, "and I figured I couldn't just sit there and order nothing. Then, eventually, after seeing how intent you were on making each cup something special and unique, I thought it was something you really enjoyed doing and I didn't have the heart to order anything else. Not to mention I found it really sweet!" he laughed nervously.

"You are...the biggest dork I have ever had the pleasure of knowing," Jean finally said after it all sunk in. "You could have had water or something! I wouldn't have let Sasha kick you out! This whole time I just thought you had a huge sweet tooth!"

Marco laughed as Jean threw his arm around his shoulders, "I'm sorry! But I always enjoyed it, I promise!"

He ruffled Marco's hair in mock annoyance. The other man kept saying sorry between his sweet laughter and Jean just growled in response.

"Ok, so from now on when you come into the shop I'll start making you other drinks, stuff not on the menu. Oh and we still get to call you Coco in the shop. Deal?"

"You call me Coco?" Marco asked.

"Well yeah. You drank it, your skin is a nice coco color, you know it worked pretty well. So deal or not?"

"Deal."

"Good, now that means you'll also have to come in more often to make up for this facade! This horrible hot chocolate loving farce!"

"I think I can manage that."

"Then, I suppose, all is forgiven."

They calmed down a bit, a chuckle escaping here or there, nudging each other's shoulders as they walked down the sidewalk. Their fingers brushed against one another and Jean was grateful neither of them had the forethought to wear gloves, despite the icy wind biting at his skin. He finally made the move, grabbing hold of Marco's hand and their fingers laced together. It was nice, it was simple and it was perfect. But it finally had to end.

"Well, my apartments right over here near the shop," Jean said, gesturing up the street.

"Oh! I'm down on Sina road. I guess this is goodnight?"

"Yeah," Jean said, a little sad.

They stood there, hands still clutched together, shivering like damn fools.

_Now or never, Kirschtein. _

Jean leaned over and pressed his lips to Marco's. It was a chaste kiss, broken mostly because the two of them were chattering but it was enough. They beamed at each other.

"Goodnight, Jean."

"Goodnight, Marco."

With that, they let go of each other's hands and walked away, both catching the other looking back. And the very next day, Marco was back in the shop, as promised.

"The usual, Coco?" Sasha asked the minute he walked through the door, "And before you asked, Jean is not on the menu."

"That's a shame, I'd take a tall glass of him in a heartbeat."

Sasha laughed while Jean stuttered a bit and even Armin blushed. Marco walked to meet him across the pickup counter.

"Hi."

"Hello."

"Just kiss already!"

A paper cup hit Sasha in the head, "Dammit Sasha, shut up!" Jean growled, his eyes not leaving Marco's.

"She makes a good suggestion though."

"Fair enough."

Jean leaned over the counter into a clumsy kiss, cueing 'awwws' from the other two behind him. He sent a gesture their way before focusing entirely on Marco's lips and how sweet he tasted.

"No offense, but this is way better than your hot chocolate," Marco murmured when he pulled away.

Jean smirked, "Not gonna get tired of this, are you?"

"Never."

Taking that as a promise, he leaned over and kissed him again.


End file.
